SILENCE - photobook

SIL ENCE

I don’t live here.

I don’t belong here.

I was here.

My first impression of Miszla was marked by the constant image of ‘abandoned’ houses. I wanted to experience the lonely life of the village. During my interaction with the locals and the houses I expanded my insight on this idea and found that these places are not abandoned, they are just silent and waiting for something to happen. I’ve spent one day alone in one of Miszla’s lonely houses.

This book reflects my thoughts and emotions while being there.

I would like to thank Ernő Gudman for his help.

Miszla is a set tlement with three streets. In the middle of the village runs a river which determines the order of the inner plots; these are lined up perpendicular to the creek. The set tlement is surrounded by hills: Cat, Agnis Hill, Bรถcskรถr, Crimson Mountain and New Mountain.

The name of the village (Myzla) was first mentioned in 1324. In the Middle Ages it belonged to Simontornya Castle. It depopulated during the Turkish occupation. Later, in 1715 John Salomvรกr reset tled the village with Catholic, Protestant and Evangelical set tlers.

Miszla was ruled for centuries by noble families. PĂĄl NemeskĂŠri Kiss has created a model farm in Miszla: he impor ted graf ted vines and bread seeds from abroad; he dealt wint silk breeding and operated a brick furnace, a distillery and an oil mill. His wife, Ida CsapĂł had founded the kindergar ten of Miszla.

Pál Kiss lef t his lordship on his nephew, Baron Nándor Inkey who visited Miszla just to relax there - the economic af fairs were handeled by of ficers. Nándor Inkey established a power ful rolling mill in the village. Nándor Inkey established a power ful rolling mill in the village. The road between Pincehely and Miszla is called the „Flour Barrel Way” even today, because the traf fic was carried on

this road. Af ter the Baron’s death the estate was divided into three par ts. His son, Imre Inkey inherited one par t, and the remaining par ts became the proper ty of Már ton Lányi – a lawyer from Budapest, and József Mar tin – an economic counselor. He kept his horse herd in Bikád where he also built his castle.

The last representatives of noble families were the children of Imre Inkey Imre, Baroness Lili and Master Mirkรณ. They lived in the village until the mid-1940s. A statement made in 1935 said that there were 789 land owners.

According in the census in the year of 1870, 1,618 people lived in Miszla. The population has dwindled more and more - in 1977 it dwindled to 650 people, and today it barely reaches four hundred.

In 1971 the administrative autonomy of the village ceased to exist, and was at tached to Gyรถnk.

A significant par t of the working population emigrated. In the 1948-49 school year, the Protestant and Catholic school had 158 pupils altogether. First, the upper grades of the elementary school had been transfered to Gyรถnk, then the lower grades were given the same solution as well. The post of fice has closed.

According to the reckoning of 1965 there were 236 cat tle, 529 pigs, 39 horses and 1,681 sheep in the joint holding. 44,000 liters of milk were taken to the creamery. On the land they mainly grew winter wheat, rye, lentils, sunflowers, potatoes and corn. Grapes were grown on 106 cadastral acres.

July 18th, 2016 Miszla, Hungary

10:35 AM. We arrive. It is the first time I see this house – we’ve visited many abandoned homes in the last few days. Ernő and his friend bought houses in the village, so they could come here in the weekends. Then his friend died, his daughters inherited the house, but they don’t come here anymore.

The house is mostly empty now, one can hardly see it out of the yard full of overgrown bushes and weed. The house has a crumbly porch, white walls, white doors and white windows – with flaking paint.

Ernő is talking about the weekends they used to spend here, the so called barn-par ties (they bred pigs here), the wines they drank under the linden, and the late talks on the porch. Now there’s only the dormice that occupied one of the kitchen cabinets.

Ernő leaves.

I feel like being in the middle of a forest – it took me about an hour to explore everything: one room with one bedstead, couple of stains of pictures that were once on the walls; one kitchen, one chamber with one box full of cutlery, few compotes on the shelves, few hooks hanging from the roof, one refrigerator; lots of cards

laying everywhere and one strange smell. One barn, one well; one yard with one pear tree, one walnut tree, couple of mellow bushes and a few roses. Being inside gives me a weird feeling – one that I don’t like.

It is bet ter to be outside – even if every time a pear falls of f the tree, I feel like my hear t stops for a couple of seconds. The yard is full of grasshoppers, snails and empty snail shells.

I sit down on the porch – I stay here stock-still for a while –, I don’t know what I’m doing here. Ants are crawling on me. The one thing I’m sure about, is that for some reason it isn’t good to be inside the house. I’m going back.

This time it doesn’t seem so frightening –, but the smell is still bothering me. I find some hangers in the kitchen cabinet.

I even venture up to the at tic. Then I sit back to my ‚place’.

How was it like to live here? How would it be now if it wasn’t empty? If I would clean this place, could I be able to live here?

My hair has grown a lot.

It feels more and more like home in the kitchen. My throat is dry.

The yard reminds me of the balding aunt Sári from Szentendre – she lived alone since her husband died. There was a big yard at the back of her house, but one couldn’t go there, it was overgrown with weed. That summer we’ve spent there, the bed in our room,

behind which she stored a smaller library, the kitchen where she made some delicious apple pie, and the night, when because of my father’s alcoholism and my mother’s hysteria we slept at an unknown family’s home.

Why does one build a house in the middle of nowhere?

Four fireflies, tree scarab beatles, one dormouse – at least I hope it’s a dormouse. I know what I would like to get for Christmas.

I’m not get ting scared of every falling pear.

I’m counting the time with every time I have to pee.

I calmed down.

Flies, giant ants, bees, grasshoppers, spiders in more sizes, one white and one black but ter fly. I’m feeling like time is slowing down.

I’m talking to people – in my mind.

I admire the scarab beatles for their strenght and ambition. I’m star ting to collect snail shells.

I was afraid to come here.

I’m filled with the odor of this house.

It is 6 PM. I close the doors, and I leave.

SILENCE Introduction: miszla.hu Photo | Tex t: Rebekka Ivรกcson

Miszla | Hungary 2016